


be careful

by peachesandlesbians



Series: different ways to say i love you [4]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Pining, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandlesbians/pseuds/peachesandlesbians
Summary: Crime is on the rise, and Miranda is worried. Not for her, though.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: different ways to say i love you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796488
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	be careful

> “Text me when you get home safely.” / “Be careful.”

* * *

Miranda glared as her phone lit up with another irritating buzz, ready to ignore it before she read the name displayed. _Cassidy_.

Her heart stopped for a moment as she fumbled to unlock her phone. If she’d got herself into trouble, that would be dealt with. But if someone did so much as touch a single hair on her head, God help them—

As soon as she read Cassidy’s message, Miranda exhaled so hard she ruffled the papers on her desk. Everything is fine. It was only Cassidy’s hourly text of: _hey mom, me and caro are all good. no one has kidnapped us (yet)._

Really, Miranda would appreciate it if she didn’t joke about such things. In the past weeks, crime had been on the rise in New York for no apparent reason. It seems that people have failed to find a simple way to relax. Had any of those heathens tried Pilates? Or getting a massage? Honestly.

Whatever the reason some of New York’s worst have lost their senses, Miranda had deemed it necessary to hire a bodyguard for her girls. Overkill? Only to the feeble-minded. Not only that, but she demanded that Cassidy and Caroline text her in-between classes and check-in. The last time they didn’t, the privilege (not a right!) of playing their devices had been taken away. They sure learned their lesson quickly after that.

Her phone lit up again, this time from Caroline. _Are you going to be home early again?_

Miranda sighed and typed back: _I’m afraid not, Bobbsey. I have too much work today. I’ll make it up to you this weekend._

She chewed her bottom lip as she waited for Caroline to respond. Her youngest was the most sensitive, and though she was blessed with empathy (something lacking in most children), she could also take rejections harder than her twin. Cassidy would holler about her being the worst mother in the world, but she would forget about it in a week or so. Caroline, not so much.

_Ok_ is her simple reply, but the smiley face emoji does much to assuage Miranda’s fears. 

In the past, Miranda always stayed late, sometimes not getting home until the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her girls, but … work was her number one priority. It had to be. But now, that all changed, thanks to one self-assured, brash assistant. (Who was also beautiful and kind and gentle.)

Andrea (who was the epitome of professional, unlike herself) made it her mission to have most of Miranda’s evenings clear so she could have dinner with her daughters. Nowadays, she hardly stayed late. She simply valued her girls more than anything. As it should be.

But, if she was being honest with herself, there was another reason why she went home early lately. Andrea, being the loyal assistant she is (and nothing more), always stayed until Miranda left too. Granted, she was just doing her job, but Miranda secretly hoped she wanted to keep her company. Or something along those lines. 

Andrea also always walked to the subway. It was only a short, ten-minute walk (she chose not to examine _why_ she knew that), but with the media frenzy of insane men jumping out of shadows, how could Miranda not be concerned?

She sighed. Yes, it was utterly ridiculous to one, care for her assistant’s well-being. Her second assistant, nonetheless! And two, be in love with said assistant. Who was a woman. Who was also half her age. But when she imagined rough hands gripping that lovely, pale neck or those doe-eyes filling with fear …

Miranda shivered. No. She was not going to think like that. They were both going to work late this once, and they would be fine. Andrea would be fine.

“Tea, Miranda?” A soft, honey-like voice carefully wafted past her intense thoughts and soothed her soul. 

Miranda’s shoulders released a bit of their tension. Having tea meant she was ready to relax and go home. “Coffee tonight, I think.” Coffee meant no relaxation, no going home. In other words, a bad night.

Andrea tilted her head in adorable confusion, and Miranda wondered if the girl knew how expressive she was. It made her have to push down a pang of regret when she was too harsh. 

“Of course, Miranda.” It must be her mind playing tricks on her because surely Andrea didn’t whisper, “Anything for you.” Of course not. Oh, how she wished it was otherwise. 

When Andrea brought back a coffee, their fingers brushed, and Miranda almost dropped the steaming hot liquid on her lap. Those soft fingers … what would they feel like against her cheek? How she could only wonder and dream. “That’s all.”

Andrea nodded and scurried away, brow knit together in an unreadable expression. Great. She wished to call her back, to smooth the creases away, and apologize for being so blunt, but of course, she couldn’t. She could never. 

On that note, Miranda scowled at the mountain of work on her desk, coffee in hand. She had a long night ahead of her. 

* * *

Her assistants were right when they whispered that Miranda only had two emotions: annoyed and barely satisfied. Looking at the god-awful photos on her desk summed up both of them. After hours of working, she managed to salvage the dazed expression on the model’s face by dimming the lights, focusing on the clothes in an edgier perspective instead. It wasn’t great, but it would do for now. 

Miranda shook her head and stood up, quietly walking into the next room to grab her coat and bag. By the time Andrea noticed and jumped up with a not-so-quiet yelp, she had shrugged on half the coat already. 

“Miranda! Let me help you with that.”

Before Miranda could protest (no that she wanted to), Andrea was an inch away from her. She wrapped the coat around her snugly, pausing only to adjust the collar and smooth down the fur, almost caressing it. Good God. Miranda was three seconds away from blushing as she felt Andrea’s hot breath ghost the back of her neck. 

“You’re walking tonight?” Hopefully, Andrea couldn’t hear the hoarseness in her voice.

“Yep,” she replied as they walked to the elevator. 

Miranda rolled her eyes as Andrea seemed to linger in the threshold. That silly girl should know by now how cherished she was. How special. “Are you going to hover there all night?”

The answering beam stole Miranda’s breath away. She didn’t have any breath left in her anyway, not when Andrea stood so close to her, her intoxicating floral scent filling the elevator.

Thankfully, Andrea was quiet on the way down, the only noise being her fingers tapping on her cell phone. Miranda didn’t know what she would do if Andrea began babbling. Probably kiss her to shut her up. 

“I texted Roy while we were going down.”

Miranda blinked. She hadn’t even noticed that. Too busy daydreaming about her unavailable assistant, she supposed. “Fine.”

“Have a good night.” Andrea smiled, nonplussed by her curtness, then glanced around a second later. The pitch-black sky seemed to stifle all the light and life present. The wind was hardly friendly, and all the streets were empty of people.

For a second, Miranda opened her mouth, ready to offer a lift, but she stopped herself at the last minute. If she helped Andrea get home, then Miranda would want to ask her to stay at her house. And if she did that, then she would want to kiss Andrea’s beautiful lips, followed by a tender kiss to her forehead. One thing would lead to another, and Andrea would be wrapped in Miranda’s arms, protected from the harshness of the world. 

So, Miranda swallowed her bitter disappointment and settled on, “Text me when you get home safely.”

Shock bloomed on Andrea’s face, but she nodded and said, “I-I will. I promise.”

Miranda simply nodded and allowed Andrea to open the car door for her. She lingered, though, brow furrowing. How could she tell Andrea how she would be absolutely devastated if something happened to her without actually saying it?

“Miranda?” That gentle voice would be the death of her.

“Just be careful, Andrea.” Flushed, Miranda hurried into the car, missing the giant grin on Andrea’s face.

* * *

Halfway through her wine, Miranda’s phone lit up. _Déjà vu much?_

As expected, it was from Andrea, though that didn’t stop her heart from racing. _Hey, Miranda, I got home a couple of minutes ago. I’m all cozy and warm, no need to worry. Have a good night._

As she read Andrea’s message, noting the juvenile emojis, a bitter smile crossed Miranda’s face. There was nothing to worry about. Andrea was fine and warm and happy, most likely with that cook boy. 

But still. Miranda wished more than anything it was _her_ being Andrea happy. 

What a silly thought. She shook her head. It was enough that Andrea was safe. It was all she could ask for, anyway.

With a great sigh, Miranda got up and headed to her cold, lonely bed. Maybe one day, she could be lucky enough to make Andrea smile and laugh. To be her comfort and home. 

For now, though, Miranda simply dreamed of an end to the pain that was loving Andrea Sachs.


End file.
